


One Kiss Away from Killing

by WynterTwylight



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anxiety, Arguments, Cuddling, Eobard and Barry need to get their shit together, Eobarry, M/M, Panic Attacks, all the feels, barrison, barry is a smol who must be protected, it's just really hard right now, necessary snuggles, pipeline conversations, questionably safe sex, smutty things, they love each other I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8026297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynterTwylight/pseuds/WynterTwylight
Summary: Barry and Harrison Wells have been a thing for a while now, but after Barry learns who Harrison Wells really is, his love can only stretch so far before it breaks, and when it finally does, it shatters.A.K.A. Eobard Thawne is a name Barry wishes he never knew existed, belonging to a man that Barry couldn't help but fall in love with, and from there it's just a disaster waiting to happen.





	One Kiss Away from Killing

"Oh, so that's it?" Barry says angrily, looking on the man _formerly_ known as Harrison Wells "You tell me you used to hate me, with every ‘cell’ in your being but then turn around now and say that _your motivations changed right after you tell me you_ killed _my mother_?" 

"Barry, it's not like that, not anymore." Eobard tries to explain, but the younger one isn’t in a listening mood, and Eobard recognizes this, shoves it down, and ignores his impulses to slap the man as hard as he can, just to get him to _listen_ to him.

"Shut up, _Thawne_!"  Barry spits the words, saying Eobard’s name like a curse. It bites the older man to the core, and it _hurts._ He had always expected the first time Barry said his true name would be with adoration and awe, not complete and utter disgust, with _hatred_. He might have expected it to be this way once upon a time, but not now, and certainly not like this.

"Eobard, please call me _Eobard._ "  He says, annoyed, voice much quieter than Barry’s yelling voice, holding back words that would have been biting, ruthless, _cruel._ “My name is _Eobard,_ Barry.” _Not Thawne, you don’t have the right to even_ say _that name._

Barry continues on, ignoring him. "So what am _I_ to you then, just someone you could mentor? Someone to destroy? Someone to rip limb from limb? Or has _that_ changed too?" Barry was entering dangerous territory, and he _knows_ it, but that only means he is purposefully baiting the older man. Eobard, tempted to take it, shoves it back in Barry’s face and gives him what he _deserves._  

"Barry, I didn't expect all of this!” Eobard says finally. “After I watched you grow up, and become the person you are today, the Flash I didn’t _expect_ you to be, the Flash who I made and sculpted, molded and _created_ under my hands—”

Barry cuts him off, fire behind his eyes in pure fury. “—I don’t belong to you Eobard! I am _not_ yours.”

“Barry, it’s _not like that.”_ Eobard nearly growls at him, hands clenched tight at his sides. He’s trying to figure out what to say, how to say it, how to make this _right._ If Barry would just listen to him, and stop interrupting him, maybe he would have time to figure this out, but the man wouldn’t _shut up._

Eobard takes a breath. It’s getting harder for him to hold back. Years and years of control are threatening to shatter.

 _Breathe in, breathe out…_ he tells himself. _Breathe in, breathe out._

"They why the _fuck_ did you kill my mother? Hmm?"  Barry fumes and draws closer to him, their faces inches apart. Eobard is glad there is no one in the labs, but that also means Eobard can shove Barry into the wall to talk some damn sense into the man—because Barry is seeing this from the wrong angle, he needs to see it from _Eobard’s_ angle, the _right_ angle.

The thought takes Eobard over. He gives up on controlling himself and flashes to Barry then, slams him against the concrete, hand constricting around his throat, for the sole purpose of forcing Barry to _shut the fuck up_.

It’s Barry’s fault. Eobard’s love for the man in front of him is _all Barry’s fault._ Barry _did_ belong to him. And Barry knows it. Of course, this means that Eobard belongs to Barry too, but Eobard isn’t about to _admit_ that.

Barry is bound by his love for Eobard, tied to him by the Speedforce, and Barry knows this is true even if Eobard has to draw the confession out of him through pain and tears and anguish. Eobard has to hang onto that, onto _something._ It _has_ to still be there. Love conquers all and transcends everything, right? If he is stuck here, it better damn well be worth it.

After all, when he finally had confessed to the murder of Nora Allen, only hours ago—away from recorders and cell phones, of course—he had been met with a strong punch from Barry—one that Eobard had taught him—and Eobard hadn’t fought it then. He had deserved it and expected it, and Barry _knows_ this.

But now, Barry immediately struggles. Eobard suspects no less. Eobard merely crushes Barry with the weight of his body against the wall.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Eobard says quietly, slowly gaining his patience back.

Barry tries to speak, but Eobard tightens his hold on the younger man’s throat. It is a gesture that used to calm him, that Barry could trust in Eobard’s control. He _had_ to, he can fix this, as long as he says the right thing, and as long as Barry listens to him. Eobard just needs _time._

Barry soon stills in his grip, a practiced gesture of surrender, because Barry would be fooling himself if he thinks he has a chance of overpowering Eobard, not when Eobard has _everything_ against him, so it is inevitable really, that Barry would surrender in _this_ moment.

Barry doesn’t look at Eobard, doesn’t have the strength to. The day has been long and grueling. So Barry lets Eobard stay in his space without resistance, and lets Eobard’s mouth draw close to his ear as it speaks nothing but truth.

“In the end, after all of this, I wanted to be by your side, fighting with you, as a partner. As _your_ partner, your lover."  Eobard says simply. He keeps Barry on the edge of his consciousness, and the younger man’s sight is flickering. It’s greying at the edges and Barry absentmindedly claws at him, hands instinctively clenching around Eobard’s arms.

 _The things you have_ done _to me, Barry Allen._ Eobard thinks to himself.

"And to answer your question from before, you would have found out eventually that I had killed her. You're too smart for me to hide that from you forever." Eobard adds.

Barry tries to shove out of Eobard’s clutches then, betrayal deep in his eyes as old hurts return, and Eobard lets his throat free, but still holds him to the wall by a strong arm over his collarbone.

Barry settles again, tears coming down his face. Normally he would have run off to a place where public eyes can’t watch him, but when the one man Barry _runs_ to is the _source_ of his pain, well, then Barry has nowhere to go.

"Then why play these games? Why lead me on knowing that you would destroy me, once I gave you what you wanted?” Barry says quietly, his voice betraying defeat.

Oh, what Eobard would have _done_ to have the Flash like this so long ago. But not now, not today, it isn’t _right._ It isn’t right with _Barry._

So Eobard lets him go. If Barry runs, Eobard can easily catch him and drag him back in an instant. That is _Eobard’s_ justification on the matter.

"Because I didn't expect to care for you, I didn't expect to love you." Eobard confesses once Barry _doesn’t_ run.

"You love me? After all this? After you tell me you killed my mother, slam me against a wall, keep me from talking by _choking me within an inch of my life_ , and _then_ you have the _audacity_ to tell me you still _love_ me?”

“The only reason I did those things to you was so you would shut up! You wouldn’t _listen_ to me!”

“Fuck off, _Eobard._ "

Barry flashes away. Eobard ends up _not_ chasing after him. Barry needs space, sure, but Eobard needs his own space more than he needs to chase after Barry and prove the younger man wrong. He had hurt Barry enough today.

But Eobard knows Barry will need a place to sleep. Sure, the younger man can try and stay at Cisco’s, or run back to Joe’s place, in his old room, but Eobard knows he is too stubborn to just _let_ Eobard have _their_ bed all to himself. Eobard may have won for now, but Barry will come back, and he’ll come back _fighting._

And now, all alone, Eobard Thawne cries.

~

As expected, when Eobard finally does get back to his bedroom, Barry stands, barring the entrance to the door. He had beaten him here. Eobard isn’t surprised.

Eobard laughs at him on sight. As if Barry thinks he can actually stop him from entering his own room.

"Get out, Eo."  Barry orders, voice unforgiving, biting, angry.

Eobard notes that the Speedforce intermittently crackles across his skin and claps slowly as he lets his eyebrow arch. “Oh, you already have a _nickname_ for me? Cisco would be impressed with you.” His tone is mocking, and he takes a few steps towards Barry. Eobard sees the younger man swallow _almost_ imperceptibly.

“Get _ou—”_ The younger man tries to repeat his words but his voice cracks, causing the last half to come across as a high squeak. Eobard steps forward again, somewhat enjoying watching Barry so _easily_ fall apart in front of him. In an attempt of bravery, Barry meets his eyes, but Eobard briefly turns his own eyes red, and Barry looks away, stepping back on instinct.

Eobard chuckles, and draws forward again, his face inches from the other man’s. At this point it’s just a game of intimidation.

"This is my bed too, Barry, I won’t let you kick me out of it.”

"Eobard, get the fuck out of here!" The man is so stubborn, so determined. Just as determined as Eobard, and that presents a _very_ big problem.

“Barry, just listen to me—”

“If you say that one more time, so help me _God_ , I will—”

“You will _what_ , Barry?” Eobard challenges, pressing further into Barry’s space, uninvited.

“I will _kill_ you.” He raises a vibrating hand, and Eobard inwardly laughs at the irony that it was another move he had taught him.

Knowing it was an empty threat Eobard smirks. “I don’t believe you have it in you, _Flash.”_

Barry lunges, but it is sloppy and rash, driven by anger and hurt and a hint of… is that _fear?_

Eobard grabs Barry’s still vibrating wrist, syncing up his own vibrations so he can get a better grip on Barry’s arm. He uses the leverage he has to throw the younger man roughly to the floor. Eobard climbs on top of Barry while the younger speedster is still off guard, pinning his wrists high above his head. Barry immediately tries to phase out of his grip, his body blurring with the effort, but Eobard turns his vibrations harmful, hurting, cruel, relentless, and mean. When Barry keeps fighting through his obvious pain, Eobard slaps him across the face, not once, but three times, leaning down and yelling in his face.

“Stop fighting me Barry!” Eobard screams. “I’m not letting you go anywhere, just listen to me! I don’t want to hurt you, _dammit!”_

The fight goes out of Barry almost immediately, the sudden pain and Eobard’s yelling shocking him into stillness. The hand that had just slapped him grasps Barry’s chin, and forces him to look at the man on top of him. So many times their positions were like this, and it was out of love, not hate. They didn’t use their knowledge of one another in cruel ways, not since they became a thing, since they fell in _love,_ but this, this was _different,_ and with this dichotomy, Eobard Thawne has finally succeeded in breaking Barry Allen. The younger speedster fractures and fragments under Eobard’s hands, and tears drip from the younger man’s eyes.

Eobard realizes with a start that he feels no pleasure watching Barry fall apart, not like this. This isn’t how love is supposed to be, this isn’t how _their_ love is supposed to be. Eobard lets go of Barry’s face, and releases his wrists. Barry doesn’t move, doesn’t try to fight him, nothing.

"I hate you.” Barry says quietly, the words shattered on his lips, so broken that they threaten Eobard’s self-control, because he’s holding back his own tears. He will _not_ cry. Not now, and not in front of Barry.

“I shouldn't love you, I _can’t_ love you" Barry’s eyes refuse to leave his, and the fear and betrayal Eobard sees within them strikes deep. "How could you, why...." Barry trails off into sobs, shaking helplessly. His hands move to cover his face, and Eobard lets him do it.

"But you do love me." Eobard says.

Barry snaps.

“Of course I do! You were my _idol_ , my _mentor_ , a _guide_ , my _teacher_ , everything I wanted in a partner, someone who understood my powers for what they were, and the darkness they brought me! I didn’t feel _alone_ in the Speedforce anymore. How could I _not_ fall in love with you?”

“I do love you too, you know.”

Barry looks away from him.

"Please let me go." He begs.

"You know I can’t do that."  Eobard says back to him. “Not yet.”

"Eobard, _please_. After all you did to me today, please," Barry’s words reach his ears, just a little, enough to compromise.

"Okay fine.” Eobard begins. “I will, but only if we share our bed. No throwing the other out. We can _make it work_.”

“And what’s the alternative?”

“We stay here. I force your confessions out of your so we can start solving this _problem_ of ours. We can do it here or we can do it over… coffee or something. Your call, Barry.” Eobard suggests, throwing the ball into Barry’s court.  “We can make this work for one night."

"Like hell that’s happening!” Barry screams back. Just the thought of even _talking_ about what Eobard has done in enough to have Barry’s anger return to him. Barry can’t face it, not yet, and no head on _with Eobard in the room._

Barry starts fighting again, and Eobard just rolls his eyes, holding the younger man down more forcefully, nearly laying on top of him. Barry knows he isn’t going anywhere. It is just a matter of time before he stills again.

Eobard speaks once Barry calms, but not until Barry lets out a long drawn out string of curses and yells of frustration.

"I’m not leaving. This is my house, remember?" 

Barry nods slowly, and takes in a breath.

“Fine, okay. One night. But that’s it.” He says.

“That’s all we need, for now.”

Barry nods again.

Eobard lets him go.

In the span of a few seconds, both speedsters are ready for bed, and they each climb onto opposite sides laying as far away from the other as possible.

“Goodnight Barry.” Eobard says, too stubborn to break routine.

“Goodnight to you too.” Barry says after a few moments of hesitation.

Just as Eobard is beginning to nod off to sleep, he hears the sharp and irregular intakes of breath indicating Barry is crying again. It shakes the mattress and Eobard knows he won’t get to sleep like this. With a sigh, not even _considering_ kicking the other out of the bed, he speaks.

"Come here" Eobard offers, opening his arms. He uses a calm voice that Barry seldom denies. "I can’t sleep like this and you know it, and _you_ can’t sleep like this either.”

"No."  Barry says quickly, much to the other man’s surprise, but Eobard knows the man is tempted. They both know the protocol. Barry will fitfully fall asleep, and then have nightmares, which usually end in Barry huddled in the safety of Eobard’s arms until he can finally sleep again. Eobard doesn’t push though, not this time. Barry will come back. He always does. He _has_ to.

And sure enough, just as Eobard is nodding off to sleep _again_ , Barry starts screaming.

With a loud, frightened, and broken cry, Barry yells himself awake, dreaming of surely something Eobard has done. Then Barry is crying helplessly, showing the beginnings of a panic attack. Barry opens his eyes and turns to see Eobard next to him. He scrambles away instantly, back against the farthest wall from Eobard, eyes wide in terror, lightning running across his skin, his body shaking in fear.

Eobard can’t watch him go through another attack, not like this, and certainly not when it’s _his_ fault. He knows there is something in Barry, a part that is still loyal to Eobard, a part that Eobard can speak to, if the older man chooses to exploit it. It is a dangerous game he chooses to play, but Barry is aware that Eobard knows how to help him and that he’s the _only_ one that can help him.

“Barry, come here.” Eobard calls softly, tenderly, echoing his words from before. It is not a request.

Barry, still sobbing, returns and rolls over almost instantly in the bed to rest in Eobard’s strong arms. A part of Barry knows he is protected, yet another part tells him this is exactly where he _can’t_ be right now. The juxtaposition is making Barry’s panic worse, but Eobard knows how to stop it in his tracks. It will be brief.

“Shhhh, Barry, you’re safe, I won’t hurt you, let your fears rest, so you can too.” He runs a hand through Barry’s hair, and the younger speedster’s trembling slows and becomes less violent.

 _The trust is still there._ Eobard thinks. _I can work with this._ We _can work with this, even if it is a little…dysfunctional right now._

Once Barry calms a little more, Eobard carefully wraps his legs around Barry’s shaking form and does the same with his arms, holding Barry in a reassuring embrace that promises protection. When Barry’s nightmares undoubtedly start up again, the potential thrashing will be halted, and Barry can sleep better.

But Eobard can do nothing for the tears.

They will slow with time, he hopes.

Right before he closes his eyes for the last time that night, in the moonlight, Eobard sees the marks he left on Barry’s face and neck. They’re bruised and fading, but will be gone before he wakes up, as if they had never existed.

Eobard sleeps soundly, at least for the moment. Barry is still here, and all that matters is that Barry is letting Eobard hold him instead of fight him.

Eobard is so sick of fighting.

**~**

“Cisco, you have the tranq gun, get it, now.” Barry speeds into the Cortex, and Cisco obeys almost instantly, worried Barry may have been chased into the Labs by a metahuman.

Eobard shows a minute later, seething at Barry, unaware of his plans until Cisco returns with the gun in his hands.

“Oh, you plan to shoot me now?” Eobard says, throwing his arms wide and staring pointedly at Barry.

“Unless you want to go into the pipeline willingly.” Barry says simply.

“Like _hell_ I am letting you lock me away!”

“You need time to think.”

“So do you! This isn’t the answer, Barry!” Eobard says, flashing over to Cisco and taking the gun from his hands. Then he wraps one arm around Barry’s shoulders from behind and holds the barrel to his head.

“You will get nowhere with this.” Eobard says.

They start bickering again, and then Cisco makes an executive decision and leaves the Cortex. The two speedsters are still arguing when Cisco returns. The only difference is that they have changed positions. Barry is in control of the gun now, on top of Eobard, pointing it at the older man’s chest.

“I’m not sorry. You’ll thank me later.” Barry tells him.

Barry shoots Eobard.

…and Cisco shoots Barry.

Cisco calls Joe and Caitlin to help him carry the two to the pipeline. They dump them in separate cells, but sent them back close enough that they could… work out their issues, without _killing each other._

After the two speedsters are safely locked away, Joe, Cisco, and Caitlin hit up the nearest bar.

It’s going to be a long week.

~

It took all of three days before Eobard and Barry speak to each other again.

“I’m sorry I shot you with a tranq dart.” Barry says. He is on his hands and knees after moving closer to the cell Eobard is locked in. Eobard leans forward to meet him, both surprised the younger man has spoken first, since Eobard is about to crack as it is.

“Thanks, Barry, but you’re still an asshole.” Eobard replies, voice cold.

“You’re an asshole too.” Barry shrugs, saying the retort offhandedly.

“You don’t sound surprised.” Eobard says, mindlessly tapping on the glass. He runs his nails across it soundlessly.

“I’ve known for a while, there’s little that surprises me about you these days, at least, personality wise.” Barry says. His eyes are starting to get their old glow back.

“Understood.”

Then they are quiet again, looking at the other, then around the pipeline, and then back to each other again.

Eventually, it is Barry who breaks the silence...again.

“I’m tired Eobard.” Barry says.

“Barry…” Eobard shakes his head.

“I’m just _tired_ of it, Eobard. I’m tired of hating you, of endlessly blaming you for my life, for putting the Speedforce in me that nearly _ruined_ it. I have crippling anxiety because of you, PTSD from my childhood because of _you_ , and that can’t be helped because my metabolism can’t take drugs.”

“Barry it’s been four days since I told you these things.” Eobard says.

“But I’m tired of hating you.” Barry continued. “I’m tired of hating that I love you, because even after all this, you’re still what I need, a lightning rod, a reverse. I guess opposites really do attract.” Barry laughs, and it is bitter.

“And what do you expect _me_ to do about it?” Eobard asks.

“I just want to lay it to rest, all of it, but we can’t do that if we don’t try.” Barry says, voice small and scared. It means he has to put himself out there, but Eobard would be required to do the same.

“Barry it won’t be sunshine, ever,” Eobard admits, face downcast.

“Maybe not. But there is no one else in the world who gets me like you do, who can ground me when I run too fast, when I go out of control. It’s not Iris, Cisco, none of _them_ , it’s _you_ who keeps me here and teaches me about my powers when no one else can. Someone who even understands my lack of control over my vibrations in bed,” he laughs, “I won’t find someone like you. Like I said, opposites attract, and you _are_ my reverse.”

Eobard doesn’t deny it.

“Then how do you say we start this?”

“By getting out of these cells.” Barry suggests, knocking his knuckles on the glass.

“Leftmost tile on the top right side.” Eobard says, not even looking at the other.

“What?”

“Lift up the leftmost tile on the right side, it will free the lock and open the door.”

“You mean you knew how to get out this _whole time_?” Barry stares at him incredulously. “And here I was banging on the walls for three hours straight.”

“I designed the damn things with a built in fail safe on the off chance I was ever thrown in one and needed to get out.” Eobard says plainly.

“Then why didn’t you escape before now?” Barry asks.

“I wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere.”

Barry seems satisfied enough with the answer, and lets the subject rest, opting instead to stand up and follow Eobard’s suggestion.

Eobard does the same.

 

**~**

“Pause?” Eobard asks once they’re free.

“Pause.” Barry replies, nodding fast, then takes off running, their destination unspoken but clear. 

They flash away almost immediately to their shared bedroom. Eobard attempts to throw Barry down on the mattress, though the younger man artfully dodges, running to the opposite side of the bed, his eyes playful and teasing. Eobard obviously chases after him, the challenge accepted, and gathers Barry into his arms, simultaneously tripping the younger speedster so that Eobard can better push him down with a firm hand on Barry’s chest.

Barry laughs as he lets himself fall back. It is a joyful laugh, music to Eobard’s ears, and he realizes how much he _misses_ it. Without warning, Barry wraps one arm around the back of Eobard’s neck, and pulls him down so he can kiss the older man. Barry’s lips are soft on his, warm and perfect, and Eobard is so happy that he just lets the younger man take what he wants from him.

Slowly, as to not startle Eobard, Barry wraps his other arm around the small of Eobard’s back, and in one smooth motion, tugs the older man tightly against him and flips him over.

Barry quits kissing him then, propping up on his elbows to stare down at the other speedster, who merely looks up at him with such adoration Barry can hardly breathe; he too has missed this.

“Do you think this is a good idea? To just pause like this?” Barry asks, nervousness thick in his voice.

“Do you want to stop?” Eobard answers.

“No.”

“Then don’t. Worry later, fuck now.” Eobard smirks as Barry rolls his eyes, his hands settling to frame Eobard’s face. Fingers tenderly brush over Eobard’s jawline, and it instantly relaxes the older man. He sees Barry smile down at him, and it’s genuine, not faked or forced, and Eobard’s breath is nearly knocked out of his lungs at the realization.

“I missed you, you know.” Barry says. His expression falls, and he adds, “But this _thing_ we are doing right now—”

“—having sex?” Eobard grins wildly, and Barry glares strongly down at him.

“—yes _that.”_ Barry spits. “Know that it changes nothing.”

Eobard wipes his grin away, and can’t add his next words quickly enough. “I didn’t expect it to.”

Barry is quiet for a few seconds, then says “Good.”

Eobard waits, just to make sure Barry is done talking, and then nudges the other man backwards, just a little. He trails his fingers up and around Barry’s shoulders, grasping his over-shirt and pulling it down his arms. Barry gets the hint, and tosses it off to the side, and returns the favor by running his own hands under Eobard’s black sweater—an obvious holdover from Harrison Wells, the man did have good style—and yanks it above Eobard’s head. It quickly joins Barry’s shirt on the floor, where the younger man’s remaining t-shirt is rapidly added.

“You sure you want to do this?”

“Barry, you’re the only one who is having doubts.” Eobard lies, “If you want it, I’ll give it to you, if you don’t, we can just sleep.”

“I want it.” Barry tells him.

“Then I shall give it to you.” Eobard repeats.

After that, Barry stands up, takes off the rest of his clothes quickly, and holds out his hand. Eobard reaches to grab it, but Barry pulls it back.

“Pants.” Barry tells him, _deamnds_ of him.

 _Ah,_ Eobard thinks. _I see._

He phases out of his jeans, equally dark to that of his sweater, and then does the same with his underwear, handing them—and they’re still warm—to Barry’s outstretched hand. They are flung unceremoniously to the side, and Eobard only has time to notice Barry’s hungry look before he is practically attacked.

“ _This_ is you—” A kiss to Eobard’s lips. “—and _this_ is you—” Another to his neck. “—this is you too—” Barry is moving down, kissing his shoulders. “—and _this_ is you—” His arms. “—and these are yours.” Barry grasps one of Eobard’s hands, and traces the worn lines in the older man’s palm before Barry presses his lips to the indents.

It continues, a callback, not to their first night spent in the same bed, but to the first night they had _slept_ together in the conational sense, and saw each other naked for the first time. Barry had been frozen in shock that _he_ of all people had managed to get _Harrison Wells_ to take off his clothes for him, not even taking notice that _Harrison Wells_ had been equally surprised he convinced _The_ _Flash_ to take off _his_ clothes for the other as well. In his disbelief, Barry had pulled Eobard into an embrace—something sure, they had done countless times before—that had been very different from all of the others. It had been more sensual, caring, kind, and careful, ever so _careful._ If Eobard is being honest with himself, Barry had never shown more care with Eobard than he had on that night.

And he had held Eobard’s hands in his own as he kissed them, and he had kissed Eobard’s neck, his chest, his arms, his legs, _everywhere,_ all the while saying the words, “this is you, and this is you, even _this_ is you.” And Eobard had laughed, astonished, and had responded by pulling the younger man closer, and had waited until Barry was taking a breath before saying—

“Yes, this is me,” He tells Barry, back in the present.

The younger one stops, his cheeks flushing as his eyes snap to Eobard’s. Barry must be remembering that night as well.

Barry sends Eobard a weak smile. They both have changed _so much_ since that night. Their beliefs of each other are _still_ evolving. They’re ever fluid and changing, mutating, rearranging, justifying, _rectifying_.

In a way, it gives Eobard hope for their future, but he can’t let himself hope, the world doesn’t work that way. So why would it work for him now? Eobard knows he is in no fairytale, and an unhappy ending threatens him now more than ever.

He shoves it down, compartmentalizes his thoughts, and flips Barry back over so that he can crouch over him, needing to claim him, pushed by his desire to have him, to possess him, to let Barry know he _belongs_ to Eobard, always and forever.

 _He_ has _to know he is safe with me._ Eobard thinks, reassuring himself, coping.

But now, yes now he is going to make Barry _his,_ again. And the man is going to _know_ it.

Eobard smiles from between Barry’s legs, and opens the bedside drawer, removing the ‘necessaries’ as Barry calls them. He sets the condom on the pillow next to them and crawls up to him so that their cocks can brush together. Barry arches us, and when he rests again, Eobard waves the bottle of lube in front of Barry, who had reached for the bottle only to have Eobard dart it away, taunting.

“Wait, who said you were topping?” Barry questions.

“It’s my turn.” He explains.

Eobard gestures to the small whiteboard hanging on the wall above their bed, the one where they keep score of who tops when. Originally, they had struck a deal: the first to reach one hundred instances of topping—because they _did_ at one point fight for it—bought the other dinner. But it has long since been disregarded, and its memory on the wall merely remains an old joke between them. Now, it helps them remember whose turn it is, since they have settled to alternating since it is the easiest choice on the nights where they want to make love, not _fuck._

And this, yes _this,_ is fucking.

Maybe.

“But—”

“—what Barry? Afraid I’ll kill you with my dick?” Eobard’s lips turn up in a grin as he squeezes a small amount of the slippery liquid onto his palm, warming it with his hands. He sets the bottle down next to the condom, planning to go back to it later.

“No, of course not!” Barry defends.

Eobard laughs, leans close to Barry’s face and with his thumbs, runs his slicked fingers across the younger man’s jawbone and then over his cheekbones right under Barry’s eyes. Barry flinches away from Eobard’s hands, the unexpected gesture surprising him, though Eobard swears he sees Barry’s pupils dilate as he does it.

“Barry Allen, you are _mine_.” Eobard growls, voice low.

“I am _not_ yours.” Barry says quietly, not moving to wipe his face, even when Eobard’s hands leave him and opt instead to move downwards to feel Barry, running his hands between his legs to encourage Barry to open up for him.

The younger man’s face softens. “But I’ll let you have your turn.”

And boy does he.

“Eo, you’re quite the—oh _god_ ” Barry’s statement, most likely not important due to their positions, is cut off as Eobard slips a finger inside of him, careful and soft, as always.

Eobard had waited until Barry was exhaling, which the younger man does as he speaks. The sudden feeling of a finger just… suddenly there could better be handled that way, similar to how it is recommended to exhale when receiving vaccinations, or while going down the first big hill of a rollercoaster.

“I’m what?” The finger passes over a sensitive spot that causes Barry to buck up into him. It is satisfying, to know Eobard controls the action, and he does it again, destroying Barry’s monorail of thought until it is gone.

“Fuck you.” Barry says once Eobard stops to give Barry a break.

“Next time.” Eobard says, smiling, emphasizing his words with another stroke of his finger, adding a second quickly when Barry exhales again.

Barry laughs, though it is more of a hysterical shriek of surprise than a laugh. The noise rings in Eobard’s ears happily.

“Still okay?” Eobard asks him.

“Yes, goodness Eo, I love you so much right now.” Barry says through the haze. Dopamine is a powerful thing.

Eobard finally adds a third finger and strokes, just as a reward for those three words, the most important words in the entire multiverse to Eobard, because they mean that Barry _loves him back._

“I love you too, Barry.” Eobard says. “Everything will be okay. I promise.”

“Yeah, everything will be okay.” Barry mirros easily, knowing it is easier to believe when he is high off endorphins and Eobard’s _everything_. They can do this; they _have_ to. Just… not yet. They are…paused.

Eobard pulls his fingers out, satisfied enough with his preparation, and grabs the bottle again, squirting more into his hands this time, and he takes to his dick after sliding on the condom.

Barry merely looks upon him with a mixture of anxiety and desire, and Eobard _loves_ it. Armed with that knowledge, he lines himself up, and takes his time pressing himself inside Barry.

It has been too long since they have done this.

Eobard keeps a close eye on Barry’s face, noticing how his eyes scrunch up as Eobard proceeds, his brows furrowing in concentration, but they soften gradually.

“Please, please, _please_.” Barry is saying, over and over and _over_ again.

“As you wish.” Eobard said, but as he shoves further in, he is met with resistance. It is not Barry’s inherent doing, just friction that Eobard knows can be avoided. Barry will just have to wait a little while longer. Eobard pulls out, coats himself in lubricant once more, and returns, going farther in this next instance.

He does this several more times, being generous with the lube, making sure Barry is okay, still happy, for the moment. Before long, Eobard finally rests. He has pushed as far inside as he can go; as far as Eobard _allows_ himself to go.

As he looks upon the younger man’s face, he knows that Barry is achingly full of _him._ And he loves it, watching the kindling of the fire of desire in Barry’s eyes, the way Eobard can see his purposeful invasion is rapidly getting to the man underneath him. Barry’s inner wars that want to shove Eobard down and get inside _him_ conflict with the side of him that want to remain here forever, blissfully happy under Eobard’s control.

Before Barry can resolve his thoughts, Eobard stops them by abruptly pulling out of Barry ever so slightly, only to move his hips forward with a practiced angle.

And Barry, oh how he _screams_ Eobard’s name.

Eobard, absolutely loving every second of this, knowing Barry feels the same, lets his thrusts get faster. Barry continues to yell, but he grows a tad more quiet over time.

“Tell me again how you feel about me.” Eobard commands.

“You can’t expect me to—” Another sharp thrust. Barry exhales almost violently. “—actually have a coherent conversation with you like—” Eobard’s hips move fast, hitting Barry’s own pelvic area roughly. “—this.” He is starting to blur at the edges. Eobard knows he is getting close.

“Then tell me you love me.”

“That’s what you want to hear?” Barry asks him with a laugh, a joyous laugh. “I can do that. I love you.”

Eobard breathes in the words, knowing they may be the last kind thing Barry ever says to him. He expresses his thanks by sending vibrations through himself that rock Barry to the core of his bones.

Eobard sees him get closer and closer, and grabs him by the chin, guiding Barry to look up at him. It is an act Barry is used to, so he lets it happen, knowing Eobard likes to watch his face twist at the peak of the pleasure Eobard has given him.

And then, Eobard, his eyes inches away and locked with Barry’s, orders, “Come for me.”

And oh, how Barry _obeys._ Again, he screams Eobard’s name as he climaxes, back arching and body vibrating, yellow lightning crackling all over him, embracing them both with its reassuring presence.

Then with that knowledge and the sight, Eobard follows him to share his ecstasy. He doesn’t yell, but his own red lightning devours them both, chasing Barry’s yellow bolts into nothingness. Barry breathes heavily once his orgasm passes, and Eobard rests on top of him once his own has ceased. After several moments, he rolls off of the other man, urging Barry to get towards his side of their bed, gathering the young and faltering speedster in his arms. Barry cuddles closer to him, and Eobard kisses his forehead. Barry’s face scrunches up, and Eobard smiles.

Then reality comes crashing back down on both of them.

“What does this mean?” Barry asks him, eyes subtly betraying the sudden fear he feels. Their future is uncertain, and the unknown always scares Barry more than anything else, though he will never admit to it.

“It means we get coffee tomorrow, and it means we sleep now.” Eobard says.

“There is a solution.” Eobard says. “We can find a way or make one.”

Barry nods his head. “We can talk in the morning. Still paused?”

“Yes, still paused.” Eobard reflects back at Barry, who sighs in relief.

“Goodnight, Eo. I do love you.” Barry tells him.

“Love you too, Barry. Goodnight.”

Eobard will make this relationship work; he will make _them_ work, he has to. As long as he has a say—and he always does when it comes to _this_ relationship—they will not fall apart.

Not completely, and not on his watch.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this was supposed to be on the same timeline/universe as Stall for (Borrowed) Time, as a sort of prequel. As such it's been sitting on my computer for a while now, while I waited to get up the nerve to post it, but the more I looked at it the more it moved away from that fic and went towards the standalone status it is today. 
> 
> As always, thanks to @cardinalstar for looking this over and thanks to YOU for reading it <3


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